


Criminal Masterminds

by Lucifer_TraitorToGod



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-02-20 07:10:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13141626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifer_TraitorToGod/pseuds/Lucifer_TraitorToGod
Summary: Amnesia's a hell of a drug.





	1. These Violent Delights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Friends: people who know you well, but like you anyway.”

“Yo, did you hear about the new Resident Evil game that came out?”

“What? No, Sam, you know I hate horror games,” Liam groaned, raking his brown hair back in annoyance.

“Yeah, I know. Wanna play it together?”

“...fine, but if I shit myself you have to clean it up.”

“That, my friend, is a deal.”

Ichigo chuckled as he listened to the two security guards chatter next to the front door. He waved to them as he stepped into line for the bank, sighing at the amount of people in front of him. Sam grinned and waved back eagerly, blowing his blond hair out of his face.

Behind Ichigo the bank’s glass doors swung shut, cutting off the chilly early fall air. A couple of newly orange leaves fluttered in on the breeze, and drifted through the small bank. One floated languidly through the air, over the teller windows, and into the area behind the glass. It landed on the desk of a woman with long brown hair and a pale blue shirt, who picked it up to inspect it with a small smile.

The other leaf wandered over to the left, to a small area with several elegant wooden desks in rather spacious cubicles that lined the wall. The cubicles had pretty low walls, more for separation than privacy. A small hallway along the left side of the teller’s area led to the back of the bank, and a short walkway down the middle of the cubicles led to the bathrooms, and some offices for the bank managers. At the threshold of the hallway that led to the back of the bank stood a third security officer, grim and solid looking. He nodded at Ichigo when he looked over at the third guard, and Ichigo waved back in response.

“Next customer?” the teller’s voice rang out. Ichigo glanced up at the line ahead of him and pulled out his phone. He tapped his way to the group chat between him and his friends, endearingly titled, ‘Fucking Shitfaces Ichigo Puts Up With For Some Stupid Reason’.

_147 new messages._

What the fuck. He opened the chat with a quiet groan and swiped up to the last message he’d read.

**withthepointyend:** hey red  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** yeah?  
**withthepointyend:** why is there a d in fridge, but not in refrigerator?  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** why the fuck are you asking me ikkaku  
**withthepointyend:** cause ishida wont talk to me  
**withthepointyend:** i accidentally ate his sushi yesterday when i was high  
**UryuIshida618:** How do you accidentally eat something with my name on it, Ikkaku?  
**withthepointyend:** i didnt see it  
**UryuIshida618:** It had my name on a bright orange sticky note that you would have had to move to open the box.  
**withthepointyend:** listen man i was high  
**withthepointyend:** i cant be held responsible for my actions  
**UryuIshida618:** You can and you will.  
**UryuIshida618:** And if you were curious, the d in fridge is used to indicate a specific pronunciation change. That indication is not necessary in the full term, ‘refrigerator.’  
**withthepointyend:** ...  
**withthepointyend:** wow fuckin nerd  
**chappyisbestbunandiwillcutanyonewhosaysotherwisedonttestme:** savage  
**UryuIshida618:** Rukia, please shorten your handle. This is getting ridiculous.

_chappyisbestbunandiwillcutanyonewhosaysotherwisedonttestme_ has changed their name to _fuckyouishidachappyisbestbunandiwillcutanyonewhosaysotherwisedontfuckingtestme_

**UryuIshida618:** Very professional.  
**fuckyouishidachappyisbestbunandiwillcutanyonewhosaysotherwisedontfuckingtestme:** don’t tell me how to live my life, you glasses wearing fuck  
**UryuIshida618:** Did I do something to upset you, Rukia?  
**fuckyouishidachappyisbestbunandiwillcutanyonewhosaysotherwisedontfuckingtestme:** nah i’m just in a bad mood  
**fuckyouishidachappyisbestbunandiwillcutanyonewhosaysotherwisedontfuckingtestme:** i just found out that Chappy isn’t getting renewed and I AM LIVID  
**UryuIshida618:** Sorry to hear that, Ru.  
**fuckyouishidachappyisbestbunandiwillcutanyonewhosaysotherwisedontfuckingtestme:** *shrug* what can u do  
**NellielTuOdelSHANK** : Boycott.  
**fuckyouishidachappyisbestbunandiwillcutanyonewhosaysotherwisedontfuckingtestme:** YES  
**fuckyouishidachappyisbestbunandiwillcutanyonewhosaysotherwisedontfuckingtestme:** WE’RE DOING THIS  
**fuckyouishidachappyisbestbunandiwillcutanyonewhosaysotherwisedontfuckingtestme:** RENJI HELP US BOYCOTT  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** fuck you no  
**fuckyouishidachappyisbestbunandiwillcutanyonewhosaysotherwisedontfuckingtestme:** fuck you, you red-haired fuck boi  
**fuckyouishidachappyisbestbunandiwillcutanyonewhosaysotherwisedontfuckingtestme:** what, are you scared your boyfriend might see you  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** hes not my boyfriend shut up  
**fuckyouishidachappyisbestbunandiwillcutanyonewhosaysotherwisedontfuckingtestme:** not yet he’s not. just you fucking wait red  
**withthepointyend:** yall still arent dating yet  
**withthepointyend:** what the fuck red  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** none of your fucking business cueball  
**withthepointyend:** do you want patrol duty again red  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** no sir  
**withthepointyend:** thats what i thought  
**fuckyouishidachappyisbestbunandiwillcutanyonewhosaysotherwisedontfuckingtestme:** get fucked, ren  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** dont make me sit on you again rukia  
**fuckyouishidachappyisbestbunandiwillcutanyonewhosaysotherwisedontfuckingtestme:** i’m too spiky to sit on.

_NellielTuOdelSHANK_ changed their name to _TooSpikyToSitOn_

_Fuckyouishidachappyisbestbunandiwillcutanyonewhosaysotherwisedontfuckingtestme_ changed their name to _stopstealingmyonelinersnel_

**TooSpikyToSitOn:** Make me~  
**stopstealingmyonelinersnel:** i’m not gay  
**TooSpikyToSitOn:** A girl can dream.  
**stopstealingmyonelinersnel:** not about me, you freaky fucker  
**TooSpikyToSitOn:** *dreams about you*  
**stopstealingmyonelinersnel:** why are you like this  
**TooSpikyToSitOn:** I blame Ikkaku.  
**withthepointyend:** what the fuck why  
**TooSpikyToSitOn:** Your cloying heterosexuality left no room for two. Homosexuality was the only way.  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** thats fuckin weird nel  
**stopstealingmyonelinersnel:** you’re one to talk  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** not this again  
**stopstealingmyonelinersnel:** it’s not my fault you’re still into beanie babies  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** IM GONNA BE A BILLIONAIRE RUKIA  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** THEN YOULL SEE  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** YOULL ALL SEE  
**UryuIshida618:** That seems like an incredibly unreliable plan, Renji.  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** what now youre on rukias side  
**UryuIshida618:** I’m not taking a side, I’m giving an opinion.  
**withthepointyend:** yeah and opinions have layers  
**TooSpikyToSitOn:** I appreciate the attempt, but that was a stretch.  
**withthepointyend:** yeah i figured but i went for it anyway  
**TooSpikyToSitOn:** kudos  
**withthepointyend:** thanks nel  
**TooSpikyToSitOn:** *finger guns*  
**withthepointyend:** *thankful arm wiggles*  
**UryuIshida618:** You two are fucking weird.  
**TooSpikyToSitOn:** Awwww, is little Ishida jealous?  
**UryuIshida618:** Just because I’m shorter than you doesn’t mean I’m little, it means you’re freakishly tall.  
**TooSpikyToSitOn:** Suuuuuuuure, Ishida. Say whatever you need.  
**UryuIshida618:** Shut up, Odelschwank. You’re like 6’ 7”. You’re fucking tall.  
**TooSpikyToSitOn:** Incorrect. I’m taller than that.  
**UryuIshida618:** Aha! So you’re over 6’ 7”!  
**TooSpikyToSitOn:** Yep! But you’ll never know by how much!  
**UryuIshida618:** WHY  
**TooSpikyToSitOn:** Well, I have to have some secrets~  
**stopstealingmyonelinersnel:** can you keep your sex life secret  
**stopstealingmyonelinersnel:** i can hear your humping through the walls  
**stopstealingmyonelinersnel:** it sucks  
**TooSpikyToSitOn:** No it doesn’t, I suck nothing.  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** i dont wanna hear this  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** ive known you both since we were babies  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** nel ur fuckin gross  
**TooSpikyToSitOn:** Love you too, Red.  
**TooSpikyToSitOn:** You’re still coming to Pride, right?  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** yeah of course i always go  
**withthepointyend:** wait what  
**withthepointyend:** why am i just now learning this  
**withthepointyend:** red why didnt u tell me u were gay  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** im not  
**withthepointyend:** but ur going to pride  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** yes  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** ikkaku you can be straight and go to pride  
**withthepointyend:** psh i knew that  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** ikkaku how did you not know that  
**withthepointyend:** shut up renji  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** have i ever told you youre a fucking moron  
**withthepointyend:** have i ever told you to shut the fuck up  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** probably  
**withthepointyend:** then i suggest you try it  
**stopstealingmyonelinersnel:** get fucked ren  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** no one asked you rukia  
**stopstealingmyonelinersnel:** no one needed to  
**stopstealingmyonelinersnel:** i know when my services are necessary  
**TooSpikyToSitOn:** kinky  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** NEL STOP  
**TooSpikyToSitOn:** Make me, daddy.

_sixfeetoffuckyou_ has left the conversation

_Stopstealingmyonelinersnel_ has added _sixfeetoffuckyou_ to the conversation

_sixfeetoffuckyou_ has left the conversation

_Stopstealingmyonelinersnel_ has added _sixfeetoffuckyou_ to the conversation

**stopstealingmyonelinersnel:** RENJI IF YOU LEAVE AGAIN I WILL SLIT YOUR FUCKING THROAT  
**withthepointyend:** daaaaaaamn  
**UryuIshida618:** I believe the term is ‘savage.’  
**stopstealingmyonelinersnel:** awwwwwww, ishiiii you’re learning!  
**UryuIshida618:** Don’t patronize me.  
**stopstealingmyonelinersnel:** but it’s my job!  
**UryuIshida618:** No, your job is to organize the armory.  
**stopstealingmyonelinersnel:** and your job is to fucking fight me  
**UryuIshida618:** No, my job is keep Ikkaku from running us into the ground.  
**withthepointyend:** hey!  
**UryuIshida618:** Am I wrong.  
**withthepointyend:** ...  
**withthepointyend:** nah lol  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** ikkaku youre fuckin useless  
**withthepointyend:** ur not wrong  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** how did you even become leader  
**withthepointyend:** i dunno ask ur mom  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** shes literally your mother too  
**UryuIshida618:** It also makes no sense.  
**withthepointyend:** fuck off four eyes

_T_ _ooSpikyToSitOn_ changed their name to _FuckOffFourEyes_

**stopstealingmyonelinersnel:** why are you like this  
**FuckOffFourEyes:** I don’t know, man. Long story.  
**stopstealingmyonelinersnel:** actually you know what  
**stopstealingmyonelinersnel:** forget i asked  
**FuckOffFourEyes:** It all started 24 years ago, in the desolate wastes on Karakura Town...

_sixfeetoffuckyou_ has left the conversation

_Stopstealingmyonelinersnel_ has added _sixfeetoffuckyou_ to the conversation

**stopstealingmyonelinersnel:** NEL SHUT UP  
**stopstealingmyonelinersnel:** RENJI STOP LEAVING OR I WILL SLIT YOU  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** i ahte you people  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** *hate  
**FuckOffFourEyes:** Aw, Reeeen. Don’t be like that! You know you love us!  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** lies and slander  
**TheCoinisGold:** Has anyone seen Ichigo?  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** oh hey chad  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** he went to the bank like, an hour ago  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** he should be back by now

Ichigo sighed in relief as he reached the bottom, trying his damndest to ignore the smile on his lips.

**ImNotAFuckingStrawberry:** Im still here. The line was long as dicks.  
**sixfeetoffuckyou:** pick up some beer on the way home  
**FuckOffFourEyes:** And Pizza!  
**ImNotAFuckingStrawberry:** We already have pizza Nel.  
**FuckOffFourEyes:** Good. Pizza is the god of party foods.  
**FuckOffFourEyes:** Well, that and like...  
**FuckOffFourEyes:** Tortilla chips.

Before he could respond, the brown-haired teller at the counter called him up. He stepped forward and smiled warmly at the woman. “Hi, I’m here to cash a check.”

“I’ll need your debit card and a ID,” the woman replied professionally, but not unkindly. Her blue silk blouse stretched over her stomach and caught Ichigo’s attention as she moved to take his card.

“When are you due?” Ichigo asked.

The woman returned his smile and looked down happily. “Two months.”

“And you’re out here on your feet? You should be sitting down!” Ichigo chuckled, passing her the check and his license.

“Don’t I know it! Trust me, I would be if I could, but I gotta put food on the table somehow. Wages just aren’t what they used to be,” she replied. Ichigo leaned forward to read her nametag while she counted out his money.

“Well, Delilah, if you ever need a doctor, try my dad. He’s a rather popular midwife in our neighborhood,” Ichigo said, holding out a card for his father’s clinic.

Delilah scanned the card with a small smile. “Kurosaki Clinic? I’ll have to check it out. I think that’s near my apartment, actually. Thanks, um...,” she held a hand out to shake.

“Ichigo. Ichigo Kurosaki,” he said with a smile, shaking the proffered hand, “I work as a nurse there, so ask for me if you want a friendly face.”

“Will do, Ichigo,“ she said, holding out his money, 

“Have a nice da-” Delilah froze, her words caught in her throat. Ichigo turned to see what had silenced her, and his blood went cold when he caught sight of the man in the doorway. He was huge, his towering frame draped in a black trench coat. His spiked hair jingled with tiny golden bells, and the scar across his left eye made it clear that this man was dangerous. One gloved hand was stuffed inside his jacket pocket, and the other swung by his side, carrying six large duffel bags of various colors. Out of one of the otherwise empty red bags the man pulled a large rifle, squeezed the trigger, and fired it twice at the ceiling as his devilish grin split his face in half. His booming voice cut clearly through the cacophony of screams and echoing gunshots.

_“GET ON THE GROUND! THIS IS A ROBBERY!”_


	2. Taste the Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Blood is in the air, I can taste the gore." - JTMusic, "Resident Evil 7 Rap"

Ichigo crouched in the corner of the bank, ears still ringing from the explosive sound of the gunshots. He placed himself between the huge spiked man and the other customers, watching the monster for any signs that he’d noticed the small crowd. Movement drew Ichigo’s gaze to where the three security guards had taken cover in the cubicle farm, searching for safety behind the heavy wooden desks. He saw Sam and Liam nod at the third guard, and simultaneously the three stood, weapons at the ready.

“Freeze!” Sam yelled, his gun quivering in his hands as he aimed at the beast. The spiky haired man looked at the guards imperiously, raised his rifle, and took all three out with a well aimed sweep of bullets and a demonic cackle. Blood sprayed the walls behind the guards as screams from the observers rang out, mingling with the ear-splitting gunfire.

As the guards’ bodies slumped to the floor, the huge man swept his gaze back at the onlookers who fell silent, quiet in their fear. As he gazed across the customers, the man caught a glimpse of Ichigo’s bright orange hair. He looked down at the owner’s face to see hard brown eyes glaring back at him. The beast walked over, and knelt in front of the orange haired man.

“And who might you be?” he asked, his voice low and rumbling, like thunder on the horizon.

“None of your business,” Ichigo replied, jaw clenched to disguise his fear. When the man turned, Ichigo had gotten a glimpse of the eyepatch over the man’s scarred eye. On the eyepatch was a symbol Ichigo was all too familiar with. A black butterfly on a white background. This man was one of the Soul Reapers. Kenpachi Zaraki was the only well known member of the Soul Reapers, and the only one whose face and name were public knowledge.

Zaraki laughed heartily in reply, then lifted the barrel of the rifle until it sat beneath Ichigo’s chin. When he spoke, however, his voice was anything but humorous. “Wanna repeat that?”

Ichigo shifted his glare to the floor with a shake of his head, and sealed his lips together. A tremor wracked his body as he fought to keep his anger inside him. Drawing the ire of the beast was not a good idea, especially not with all the bystanders nearby.

“That’s what I thought,” the monster chuckled as he leaned back and reached into his pocket. He retrieved a small walkie-talkie and held down the large button on the side, “We’re all clear. Bring it around.”

“Overwatch #1, is the front clear?” a warm, honey-like voice asked.

“Affirmative,” a cold voice replied succinctly.

“Overwatch #2, how long til the cops show up?” the honey voice asked.

“Up to ten minutes, depending on how long we can hold them off. You’re good for now,” a significantly younger voice replied. As the voice spoke a heavily armored truck rolled up to the doors of the bank, as close as the concrete dividers would allow, and five people in matching black suits hopped out of the side door. Despite the cold weather, none of them wore jackets of any kind, making their black pinstripe suits stand out that much more.

The first two figures were clearly men, one of them towering over even Kenpachi, and the other of a more moderate height. The massive man on the left wore a clown mask with a twisted smile, and an American flag painted across the upper half. His short, reddish brown hair was clipped close to his skull, and fit well behind the hard plastic of his mask. The man next him also had a bastardized clown mask, and his loosely curled brown hair tumbled lazily across his shoulders. His clown mask had giant purple circles under its eyes, and clean, spiked lines intersected each of the eyes like claw marks. The mask’s haunting smile belied a history of pain and bloodlust.

After them came a rather well-endowed woman with hair the same bright orange as Ichigo’s, and a willowy man with black hair in a short bob. The woman’s mask looked like a skull dipped in blood, with the bottom half a deep red, and the top half a bleached, bone white. The mask’s mouth had it’s lips drawn in, sour and distasteful. The mask of the man next to her stood out, as it was drastically different than the others. It was carved in the shape of a robot head, complete with glowing lights that shone in its pale green eyes.

Last came a small, almost child-like figure, with bushy pink hair, wearing another disturbing mask that sent chills down Ichigo’s spine. The mask was mostly white except for the lips and two spots above the eyes, which were a pale pink. The area above the eyes was textured to look as though the child’s brain could be seen through their face, pink and shining. It’s lips stretched from ear to ear in a tight-lipped grin, the same pale pink as the brain. Their youthful features were almost androgynous, but as they approached, their high voice was unmistakably female.

“Ken-chan! You’re always so messy!” the child squeaked as she ran forward and leaped onto the beast’s shoulders. She reached up and tucked a piece of hair back behind her mask with a huff, and leaned into Kenpachi’s face. Kenpachi laughed and shrugged slightly, careful not to dislodge the girl.

“Apologies, little one. Are you ready?” Kenpachi asked, handing the girl a semi-automatic pistol.

“As always!” she giggled, taking the gun and hopping down to the floor lightly. Once she was gone, Kenpachi set down the duffel bags he was toting, and sorted them into three piles in accordance with their color, red, white, and blue. One red bag, the one the beast had pulled his rifle from, was now empty, and sagged limply against the tiles. The two blue bags were full of clanking, sharp-looking metal devices, and the white bags, while the largest, lay near empty except for a few small lumps that Ichigo assumed were guns as well.

The four remaining figures entered the building as a group, but quickly split off to their destinations. The woman in the bloody skull mask came to Kenpachi’s side, and took the other red duffle bag. From it she pulled a formidable looking rifle, and checked it over before switching off the safety and pointing it at the crowd.

“Careful where you swing that thing, Crowd Control,” Kenpachi chuckled, leaning against his weapon lightly.

“I know, I know. Never point your weapon unless you intend to shoot it. Well, I surely intend to shoot. Just wondering who to take aim at...,” Crowd Control teased, her laugh sparkling and sinister as it rang out from behind her mask.

“Ya always did give me the creeps,” the beast muttered, turning to check on the others.

The huge man in the American flag mask grabbed both blue duffels, hefting them onto his shoulder with a clang. The thin straps strained mightily under the weight of the metal inside. “Come, Judge. We have work to do,” the man said in a rumbling bass voice. The other, shorter man in the clawed clown mask wordlessly followed his companion down the hall by the teller windows to the back of the bank, toward the vault.

While they walked away, the man in the glowing robot mask grabbed both white bags. He reached inside one, and pulled out two pistols, one white, one black. He checked the magazines, flipped off the safety, and walked calmly to the teller’s counter with the empty bags. “Fill them,” he said. His voice was light, and quiet, though that made it no less threatening. He set the bag on the counter and stepped back, scanning the men and women who scrambled to fulfill his order. The child in the pink and white mask hopped up on the counter and cackled loudly. Her laugh floated over the tellers, high and haunting, as she watched.

“Faster, lady, faster!” she crooned to Delilah, whose weight made it difficult for her to shuffle from her desk to the bag. Delilah whimpered and did her best to speed up her movements as the child started firing at her feet recklessly. The gunshots prompted screams from the pregnant woman, who forced herself to run so she didn’t get hit.

“Ken-chan, she’s not running fast enough!” the child screeched, and Delilah froze. Nodding to Crowd Control, Kenpachi strolled calmly over to the counter.

“This one?” he said, pointing his weapon at Delilah. The tellers cowered in fear, trying to avoid the beast’s aim.

“Uh-huh,” the girl replied. Kenpachi grinned and kicked down the door leading into the teller’s booth. The monster stalked over and grabbed Delilah by the hair, dragging her out into the main floor of the bank. He threw her to her knees, the woman sobbing and screaming as she was tossed around.  
  
“Please! Please, I’m pregnant! Please don’t kill me!” Delilah screamed, trying to crawl toward the other hostages.

“Ah, ah, ahhhh~” Kenpachi said playfully as he stepped on the woman’s ankle, crushing the bone and relishing in her screams, “You’ll stay right there, I think.”

“Kenpachi, is this really necessary?” The man in the robot mask asked tiredly, exasperation clear in his posture.

Ken walked over Delilah until his feet caged her ribs, and raised his gun to the back of her head, “Kid told her to go faster. Seems like these people need to learn their lesson.” With a sadistic grin, he looked into the eyes of the other hostages, “I’d recommend you _Do_.  _What. You’re. Told!_ ”

Ichigo sat frozen for all of one second before snapping out of it.

He glanced at where Crowd Control stood guarding them, calculated his chances of getting past her, and decided it was worth trying. Having made his choice, he dove fist first toward Kenpachi. He felt a surge of adrenaline, and let it fuel his leap toward the beast. As his fist connected he heard the sickening sound of another gunshot, and his heart sank, even as he and Kenpachi tumbled to the floor. As soon as they landed Ichigo turned to check on Delilah. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw the bullet hole in the tile next to her head. She lay there, frozen and barely daring to breathe, but alive.

Ichigo felt the rumbling coming from the man below him before he heard it, and scrambled off the chest of steel he’d ended up on. Ichigo watched the beast he’d just slammed into stand slowly, carefully, a wicked anger in his eyes.

“Haven’t been hit like that in a long time, orange. You might turn out to be a fighter yet...,” he growled, stalking toward the boy with a rage fueled intensity. Kenpachi’s nose was bent at a disconcerting angle, and was streaming blood like a disgusting waterfall.

He grabbed Ichigo and slammed him against the wall, pinning him up by his neck like a puppet. “You’ll do well in the ring,” Kenpachi muttered as he reared his arm back and slammed Ichigo’s head into the wall full-force, instantly knocking the smaller man out cold.


	3. Don't Be His Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "One day,  
> The snow began to fall,  
> And slowly, inch by inch,  
> Covered up the earth.  
> 'Til finally,  
> The top of the tallest building,  
> Was lost beneath a powdered sea,  
> As quiet as a shadow's grave."
> 
> \- Jason Webley, "Last Song"

He knew this feeling.

An isolation chamber, he believed it was called. He’d tried one out a few months back to escape his family for an hour or so. He recalled the smooth glide of the water over his skin, and the gentle sounds of the small waves hitting the walls of the tank. The whisper of his thoughts has crowed at him for attention until he shoved them all away. But this time... something was different. There was no water. No metal tank. No pale shimmers of light in the darkness.

Just black.

All around.

Encompassing him, caressing his mind, pressing in around him.

Drowning him. A scream tried to escape, but instead it languished behind the prison of his lips, unable to call out for help.

_Who am I?_

_What happened to me?_

He allowed himself to slip deeper into the darkness, letting it close over his head like an ocean.

* * *

 Cold. Something was cold. The growing sensation dragged him out of his slumber, making him wonder how long he’d been under. Slowly the icy touch moved across his body, from his forehead to his cheeks, and down, down, down his sides, until it finally pooled at his feet. He tried to move, to touch the freezing trails, but found he couldn’t. Where once there was strength, now, there was nothing. His heart seized, and he fought the weight of the darkness against his skin. Slowly, as though moving through mud, he lifted one fingertip from its place at his side.

Then the cold was back. It trickled between his lips, chilling the sensitive flesh as it slipped past them. Down it went, filling his mouth.

Too much.

_It was too much._

He snapped his eyes open and was blinded by the harsh light above him. Leaning to the side, he coughed and hacked up the cold. It landed on the floor with a splash, and he realized the cold had been water. _Ice water._ Once his lungs were empty he sat back and groaned. His brain was pounding in his skull, and the pain seemed to be originating from the back of his head. Slowly, he sat up and looked around.

He was on a rather soft bed with stark white sheets, now damp and gray with water. The whole bed was soaked, which explained the feelings from before. The smooth walls were painted white, just as harsh as the light above him. He tried squinting a little to lessen the assault on his eyes, which helped, and continued on with his inspection. On the wall nearest the foot of the bed, a large mirror showed him his reflection. He stood up and crossed the room, ghosting his finger over the reflection of the only color in the room, his bright orange hair. He took in the loose white clothing with a sigh, a long-sleeve shirt and comfortable pants. Or at least, they would’ve been comfortable, if they weren’t soaked through.

“Ichigo?” a gentle voice said behind to him. That was when he noticed the man next to the bed. He was dressed in a well-fitting, black, button down dress shirt, and tight black jeans that showed off his slim figure. “Can you hear me?” ha asked. The sound caused Ichigo’s head to pulse, and he flinched away from it.

“That’s- ...is that my name?” he asked quietly, uncertain.

“Yeah, it’s what was on your driver’s license,” the man paused, taking in Ichigo’s reaction. “Are you feeling any pain or discomfort?” the man asked, when the strawberry just stared at him.

Ichigo looked up at him, and took in the man’s face fully. He had a short black bob, and feathers that decorated one of his eyes. Ichigo reached out without thinking, and trailed his fingertip over the feather near his eyebrow, momentarily distracted from the pain in his head. The man tensed slightly before relaxing and allowing the contact.

“Well, my head hurts, the back especially, and I’m not really enjoying being wet,” Ichigo replied.

“Right. Let’s get you dried off and into some warm clothes,” the man said, standing and offering Ichigo a hand. “I’m Yumichika,” he added with a soft, almost sad smile. Ichigo took the hand and let Yumichika help him out of bed.

“ _Why_ am I wet?” Ichigo asked as he was led to the bathroom. He sighed in relief when he saw the bathroom was quite a bit darker, with a warm glow from the overhead light.

“Last ditch effort. No one could get you to wake up, so Kyo recommended trying water. I’m honestly a little shocked it worked,” Yumichika replied with a quiet laugh as he pointed at a recessed cabinet, “There are towels and a few changes of clothes in there for you. I’ll go grab some painkillers.”

“Thanks,” Ichigo replied, closing the bathroom door carefully behind himself. There was no lock, which bothered him for a moment before he saw the mirror. An intense curiosity hit him, and he crept closer to study his reflection. The bright orange hair was so bright it was almost painful to look at, so he inspected his face instead. Several wrinkles between his eyebrows implied he was someone who frowned a lot, but the thin lines at the edges of his eyes told him that he’d spent just as much time smiling. Or squinting. Hard to tell. His eyes were a deep chocolate brown with a slight golden hue, and his skin was tan, with yellow undertones. It was smooth, and warm to the touch despite the water. He had high cheekbones, and an angular jaw. Once he’d taken in all he wanted, he stepped away and got himself into some warmer clothes.

His hair, which brushed his shoulders every time he turned his head, kept getting in his eyes. Each time, he blew it away with an annoyed huff and each time, it returned. Exasperated, he gave up in favor of exiting the bathroom.

“Do you have a hair tie or something?” he asked. when he noticed his companion was back.

“Here, use this,” Yumichika replied, handing him a thin black band from his wrist. Ichigo nodded, and gathered up any hair long enough to be tied back. Unfortunately, his bangs were too short to fit, and they fell across his eyes and down the sides of his face distractingly.

He groaned and tucked what he could behind his ears. Yumichika held out a closed hand, and passed Ichigo a few pills to take.

“Where am I?” Ichigo asked, looking around again and taking note of the spartan nature of the room. He popped the pills into his mouth quickly, and accepted the water Yumichika passed him next to wash them down.

“You’re in the Soul Reaper headquarters,” he replied warily.

“What the hell are the Soul Reapers?” Ichigo asked.

“Us. Me, and the rest of the group that brought you here. What exactly do you remember?”

“...nothing,” Ichigo said, confused, “Why can’t I remember anything?”

“Kenpachi knocked you out,” Yumichika said, his casual tone belying his tense body. He was upset, but Ichigo wasn’t quite certain why. He wasn’t sure he cared to find out.

“Who? And why?”

“Kenpachi Zaraki, otherwise known as The Demon. Other aliases include The Bloody Bear, The Pulverizer, and his personal favorite, The Super-predator. Standing at about 6’ 7”, he is the tallest of the Soul Reapers, and the only member of the group whose identity is public knowledge,” he rattled off almost robotically.

“I... ,what? Why did he knock me out? Who _are_ you people?” Ichigo could feel panic rising in the pit of his stomach, but he fought it down, determined to get answers.

Yumichika sighed, but didn’t deny Ichigo his answers, “We’re.... well, have you ever seen the Godfather?”

“...did you forget the part where I have amnesia?” Ichigo grumbled.

“Right. Well, we’re the um.... the mafia, I suppose.”

Ichigo paused for a long moment to regard the man in front of him. He scanned the tight pants, the clearly expensive shoes, the neatly tucked in shirt, and finally, the feathers. “Are those just par for the course then?”

“The feathers are... a personal choice.”

Realization dawned on Ichigo. “You kidnapped me.”

“I don’t know that I’d call it kidnapping...,” Yumichika muttered.

“Then what would you call it?”

“Er, borrowing you?”

“Yeah? Don’t you have to have permission to borrow things? I really doubt this Kenpachi guy asked permission before KIDNAPPING ME!” If his voice cracked a little at the end there, who’s to judge?

“Kenpachi wanted you.”

“ _Wanted me?_  That sounds real fucking shady, you know. Almost like a kidnapper.”

“I’m not a kidnapper!” Yumichika sounded almost indignant.  
  
“I’ll believe it when I see it. Guilty until proven innocent,” Ichigo retorted, arms crossed as he scowled down at the other man.

“I can’t believe this. Fine! We kidnapped you! Is that what you want to hear?!”

“Yes. Wait, no. Bring me back!”

“Well we’re bloody well not gonna do that! We’re the bleeding mafia, you think that would go over well for us?” Yumichika fumed.

“It’s not gonna end well for you if you keep me here!” Ichigo spat vehemently.

“What are you going to do, you twat? Fight me?”

“Maybe I will!”

“Good! There might be a fighter in you yet!”

“Well I guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

“Fine!” Ichigo nodded triumphantly.

“Good!”

“You two done bratting about, yet?” an annoyed voice hissed. The voice jolted the two arguers out of their scowling match, and they jumped away from each other sheepishly, like they were toddlers being scolded by their parents.

At the door stood a short, white haired boy. His face was fiercely annoyed, and he glared sharply at both of them, making Ichigo feel like a chastised school boy. The boy wore an outfit similar to Yumichika’s, with the addition of a set of brass knuckles clipped to his belt loop, a silver bat speckled with what Ichigo hoped was rust attached to a strap and slung across his back, and several visible knives. Where the first few buttons of Yumichika’s shirt had been undone, the boy’s were closed, and a red tie lay over them.

“Well?” he snapped, when neither of them responded.

“Uh, yes, I was just about to take him to Byakuya!” Yumichika blurted out.

The boy considered the two of them for a moment before nodding, “See to it.”

“Of course, Hitsugaya. I’ll get right on that!” Yumichika responded hastily, with a small bow. The boy, Hitsugaya, turned on his heel and strode away.

“...he seems like fun.”

“He’s very... by the books,” Yumichika replied slowly, as if finding something nice to say was difficult.

“Who’s Byakuya?”

“Our trainer. He trains all the Soul Reapers before their fights.”

“I'm not about to start following the orders of a kidnapper!”

“I think you’ll find me particularly...  _convincing,_ ” Yumichika said shortly, turning to face him.

“Like hell! What are you, crazy or something?” As he said it, Ichigo swore he heard someone laugh in his ear, but when he turned to see them, there was no one there. He ignored the chill that ran down his spine, and turned back to Yumichika.

“I’d watch who you’re speaking to, Ichigo,” Yumichika’s voice was like ice: smooth, but with something dangerous beneath the surface. Ichigo stopped, startled by the sudden change in Yumichika's demeanor, and reconsidered the man in front of him. He wasn’t certain, but he was pretty sure he could take the shorter man in a fight. Yumichika noticed the look, and shook his head at Ichigo. “Just wait, you’ll have a chance to test that sooner than you think," Yumichika muttered as he looked down at his watch, blew a feather out of his eye, and glanced back at the glass surface.

“Come on, it’s almost time. Byakuya will kill us both if he has to hunt us down,” he said, and headed to the door.

Yumichika pulled a large key from his pocket, and fit it carefully into the lock. It was at that moment that Ichigo realized that his room locked from the outside. Or rather, his cell. He followed Yumichika warily, trying to gather as much information about his surroundings as possible.

The hall outside his room was quiet, with several other doors branching off to what he could only assume were other cells. Yumichika led him down the slightly darker, but still hospital-white halls for quite a while until they reached a large set of heavy, wooden, double doors. The thin man pushed them open easily, and Ichigo followed him inside slowly.

The room inside was huge, with a high, arching ceiling and four pillars that formed a square around a circular ring. The ring was lit by a window high above it, and sunlight streamed down onto the eggshell colored mats covering the floor. Sections of the mats were colored brown and red, depending on the freshness of the stain, and Ichigo went swallowed dryly when he realized they were bloodstains. Surrounding the circle was a single row of benches, and behind the ring, further into the room, was a small medical area and some gym equipment.

In that section of the room was a man with long, straight, black hair that just barely brushed the middle of his back. His bangs were kept in place by several long, white clips on the top and side of his head. He stood at a table covered in lab equipment, typing away at a laptop and occasionally leaning over to check some numbers on a sheet of paper next to him. His clothing matched Yumichika’s and Hitsugaya’s, and Ichigo thought he might be noticing a theme. He’d accessorized his uniform with a white lab coat that had small cherry blossoms sewn across the left shoulder.

He glanced up as Ichigo and Yumichika entered the room, and waved at them regally. “Yumichika, bring him over here.”

Yumichika led Ichigo into the room, where Ichigo could see his face more clearly. He had silvery, gray eyes, and his skin was clear, no smile lines, no blemishes. He looked like a porcelain figure. “Shirt off, please.”

“What? Why?” Ichigo asked, a little annoyed at the constant bossing around from all these ‘Soul Reapers’.

“I need to give you a physical,” the man replied, matter of factly.

“That doesn't answer my question,” Ichigo bit back.

"We need to make sure you're fit to begin training."

"Training for what?! Why won't anyone tell me what's going on here!" Ichigo insisted, glaring at both of them.

"You didn't tell him, Yumichika?" at the shrug he received from Yumichika, the man sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Once every two weeks the nearby underground organizations meet and set their best fighters against each other in 'The Pits'. Our... talent pool has run dangerously low, and Kenpachi, our primary trainer, has been looking for someone worth training. You were the person he picked."

"But why did he pick me? What did I do to piss him off?" Ichigo asked.

"Broke his nose. Pretty badly too. It's still fucked up, and he won't let Byakuya here patch him up," Yumichika supplied helpfully, gesturing vaguely at the man in the lab coat. Ichigo winced, wondering what exactly had pushed him to do such a thing. He assumed it probably had something to do with the persistent ache in the back of his head.

"Now that we've cleared that up, I need your shirt off so I can measure your vitals," Byakuya said, still managing to sound bored despite the subject matter.

Ichigo considered his situation for a long moment before he tugged the loose white shirt off, and set it on a clear spot on the table. As soon as he did, the man started placing small sensors on his chest and back. Once they were in place, he pointed at the nearby treadmill. “Get on that machine, and let me know when you cannot keep up with the current speed," he said, turning toward a small bank of computers nearby.

Ichigo boarded the machine, aggravated by the man’s apparent dismissal of him. As the machine started moving, Ichigo easily kept up, and allowed himself to eavesdrop on the other’s conversation.

“So Byakuya, what’re you going to do with your cut?” Yumichika asked in a somewhat teasing tone.

“That’s none of your business,” Byakuya replied, still focused on the information scrolling by on his screens.

“ _Must you be so formal?_  It’s no wonder Komamura and Hitsugaya like you so much.”

“Because we are like-minded individuals who enjoy many shared pastimes?” Byakuya muttered, still refusing to look up from his work.

“No, it’s because you’re all so uptight!”

“If you don’t like it, feel free to leave.”

“You wound me! And miss out on Ichigo’s training? I wouldn’t dare.” Ichigo nearly tripped when he heard the word training. Shaking his head harshly, he pushed on, tuning out the two and focusing on his work. He kept up well with the treadmill's speed, but eventually even he had to call it quits. When he stepped off the machine even Byakuya looked surprised, which made Ichigo smirk triumphantly.

“You’re quite fast,” Byakuya stated, finally turning to face him.

“I know,” he panted. That surprised Ichigo, because he did know that. He didn’t remember who he was, but he knew...  _who_ he was. He got the sense that he was a protector, and a righteous fighter, though he couldn’t tell how he knew that. He just knew. He stared back at the scientist, waiting for his next task.

They continued, wrapping up the physical in record time. Ichigo was exhausted by the end, but satisfied with his efforts. He slumped into a nearby chair, nursing a bottle of water. After a few weary sips Yumichika sat down next to him.

“You did well. I look forward to seeing what you can do in the ring, Ichigo,” Yumichika said quietly, looking pensively at the bloodied mats.

“I don’t. I never asked for this,” Ichigo growled back. He was too tired to put any force behind it, though, so it ended up sounding more like a complaint. Yumichika nodded anyway, almost commiseratingly.

“You’ll find many among us that would echo your sentiments, Ichigo. Nevertheless, you’re here anyway. Might was well make yourself useful,” Yumichika replied, standing up, “Come on, let’s get you back to your room.”


	4. Don't Think We Can Solve 'Em

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You forgive, you forget, but you never let it go." - Taylor Swift, "Bad Blood"

After two weeks of physical training at the hands of Byakuya, who Ichigo had only grown more and more annoyed with, it was time for him to start his ‘real’ training. Whatever that meant. He’d been woken that morning by Hitsugaya, and led straight to the ring to prepare.

“You’re going to need to stretch, Ichigo,” Byakuya said, staring down at the clipboard tucked in the crook of his elbow as he nibbled the tip of his pen.

“ _Why_ ,” Ichigo hissed, still sleepy and more than a little grumpy.

“You’re to spar with Yumichika today. If you don’t stretch, you’re sure to be sore afterward,” Byakuya replied, all logic and facts.

“...fine,” Ichigo huffed, sitting down to start stretching. He’d planned to do so anyway, but something about the scientist always managed to rub him the wrong way and make him feel uncooperative. He knew it was childish, but he couldn’t help it. Knowing that the man had been nothing but cordial with him made him feel even worse, but he blamed it on a lingering resentment for y’know, kidnapping him.

About halfway through his stretching, Yumichika walked in, dressed surprisingly casually. In place of his usual, more formal uniform, he wore black sweatpants and a thin black tank top. He’d foregone shoes, and when he spotted Ichigo he waved jovially before starting his own stretches.

“Ready to get your ass kicked, love?” Yumichika teased his trainee. Ichigo sneered back and rolled his eyes.

“In your dreams, Yumichika,” Ichigo said, turning his back to the Soul Reaper.

“Trust me, Ichigo, a lot happens in my dreams,” Yumichika replied, winking at Ichigo’s back.

“Well I’m happy to provide a reality check, Yumi, you’re not dreaming,” Ichigo shrugged, bending over to touch his toes.

“Oh, I’d say quite the opposite, love,” Yumichika wolf whistled at him, and Ichigo did his best to ignore it. Once he was done he headed over to his side of the ring, and took advantage of the supplies there to hydrate and put on some hand wraps. Yumichika came over to join him, and watched carefully as Ichigo stretched the cloth around his knuckles. With a tut he pulled Ichigo’s hands into his own.

“I’ve shown you how to do this at least twenty times now. You need to go over the back _first ,_ ” Yumichika scolded, undoing Ichigo’s work to wrap the hand himself. Ichigo felt his cheeks warm slightly in embarrassment, and let him finish in stiff silence. He always felt like an idiot when he forgot something, because he knew everyone thought it was left over effects from the amnesia. It was a blessing in disguise though, if he really thought about it. He could get away with a lot more if people thought he was still suffering from his experience. Not that much, though, he supposed, stepping into the ring. Ichigo flexed his hands to test the wraps as he turned to face Yumichika.

Yumichika stepped closer, so they were an equal distance from the center, “You know the rules, Ichigo.”

“Yep. Last one standing. Gentleman’s rules. Only fight dirty when you’re losing. Etc. I got this,” Ichigo listed off, confidence exuding from him. He grinned at Yumichika, excited to finally get the chance to lay him out flat. A strange energy began to stir in his stomach, giving a certain bounce to his step.

His trainer grinned back, finally letting his usual composure fall a little as he began circling Ichigo in the ring. They circled for only a moment before Ichigo’s impatience got the better of him and he leapt, aiming a right hook at Yumichika’s face. Letting his right hand lead, he put his body into the punch and flew across the ring into... nothing.

He stumbled to a stop, confused, and whipped around just in time to see Yumichika’s fist as it connected with his face. He felt the world tip over, and when he opened his eyes, he was on his back, the cool plastic mat against his back. He scrambled to his feet, blood pumping, and just barely avoided Yumichika’s next blow by diving to his left. He came out of the dive in a roll that felt oddly natural to him. Another wave of confusion swept over him, but he shook it off and refocused on his opponent.

Ichigo backed away, taking a few seconds to recuperate and think about his next step. He avoided a few rapid strikes, his retreat taking him back, back, back, until he tripped over the edge of the mat and landed on his ass. Yumichika pounced, and Ichigo instinctively rolled out of the way. When he stood back up, he was surprised to see how calm Yumichika was, like he hadn’t just been about to bash Ichigo’s head into the floor with his knee. They circled each other again, and this time, when Ichigo went to strike, he aimed for where he thought Yumichika was going to go, instead of where he was.

_Whiff._

Again his fist sailed clean through the air where Yumichika had been just seconds before. He ducked, having anticipated where his opponent would swing, and Yumi’s fist swung just above him. He sighed in relief, and stood, only to be knocked straight back down as pain exploded along his side from a vicious kick. He crashed to the floor, holding his left side gingerly, as Yumichika danced into his view with a taunting laugh.

“You’re gonna have to move faster than that, Ichigo!” Yumichika chuckled, gliding forward to hold a hand out. Ichigo accepted the hand and stood carefully.

“I didn’t realize you were a fucking speed demon!” Ichigo growled, returning to his side of the mats and squaring off with Yumi once more. He paused when he realized there were people sitting on the benches around the ring. Byakuya, he’d expected. But Hitsugaya was there, along with several Soul Reapers he’d only seen in passing.

The huge one, who Ichigo suspected was the reason he was here, had a wicked, almost bloodthirsty grin on his face. Next to the beast sat a small girl with pink hair and a big smile on her face. The two of them took up an entire bench, and on another bench Ichigo saw two men sitting amicably together. One had dark skin and black hair, while the other was nearly the complete opposite. He had long blond hair, and was nearly as big as the beast. Next to them was Hitsugaya, and a woman with hair as orange as Ichigo’s. Finally, next to Byakuya sat an older man, dressed to the nines, and exuding an aura of power and authority despite his age.

Yumichika realized Ichigo was distracted, and swept his feet out from under him, causing his trainee to land hard on his back with a yelp of pain, “Am I not interesting enough for you, Ichigo?”

“Downright... boring...,” Ichigo ground out, climbing painfully to his feet. The two continued, with Yumichika besting Ichigo at nearly every turn. Slowly, Ichigo began to learn some of Yumichika’s tricks, and when Yumichika danced around him to avoid a blow, Ichigo was ready for him. He turned and swung, putting his full strength into the blow, and caught Yumichika directly in the chest, sending him hurtling to the ground. Yumichika lay still for a moment, taking shallow breaths before carefully standing. He teetered for a moment before he managed to straighten fully, then turned to face Ichigo.

“Finally catching up, huh?” Yumichika laughed weakly, still catching his breath.

“You’re fast, but you’re predictable. And I’m not as thick as I look. You do the math, if you can,” Ichigo jeered back, and watched Yumichika’s face harden at the insult.

“I assure you Ichigo., you have much to learn,” Yumichika muttered, leaping toward Ichigo with what appeared to be an uppercut. When Ichigo leaned back, he realized too late that it had been a feint. Yumichika was waiting for him. His knee slammed into Ichigo’s stomach while he was off balance and sent him crashing to the mat, both arms wrapped around his waist as he tried to breathe. He heaved and gaped like a fish for several seconds before air returned to him. Once he’d recovered, he got to his feet, glaring at Yumichika while he cradled his stomach.

“That was dirty,” Ichigo hissed through clenched teeth.

“No, it was smart. I thought you of all people would know the difference,” Yumichika retorted, circling once again. Ichigo raised his fists as he circled, really taking in his opponent for the first time. The fight had taken its toll on Ichigo, but Yumichika hadn’t been unaffected, and it showed. There was a slight stutter in his breathing, and his elbows were low, as if to protect his chest from another hit. Incidentally, Ichigo realized, that left his shoulders relatively open. Ichigo gathered himself, and once again leapt forward, determination fueling him. He stuck his left foot forward to trip his trainer, knowing Yumichika favored his right side when dodging. His assumption proved correct, and his opponent faltered for a split second, giving Ichigo the perfect opportunity to slam a fist into Yumichika’s shoulder.

Yumichika gasped and quickly retreated, carefully rolling his shoulder with a wince. “You’re getting better at this, Ichigo. Who knows, you might just survive this.”

With that, Yumichika dove back into the fray, using every ounce of his experience to destroy Ichigo. He moved fast, faster than Ichigo could keep up with, and every shot Ichigo launched at him was avoided with what seemed like ease. “While you were trying to learn me Ichigo, I was learning you,” Yumichika snickered, inches from Ichigo’s ear before dancing away. Ichigo growled, but his exhaustion was catching up to him, making his movements even slower and clumsier. Finally the two squared off, Ichigo way more exhausted than Yumichika.

“Awww, Ichigo, what happened to that confidence from earlier? I almost miss it,” Yumichika said, almost pouting at Ichigo. Ichigo groaned, too tired to put any energy into banter. Yumichika only laughed, putting his hands down and straightening up. “You’re clearly defeated. All you have to do is forfeit, love, and I’ll consider this fight over,” he gloated, grinning at his trainee.

Ichigo growled, silently summoning his strength. The strange energy from before surged through him, easing the pain of his wounds and giving him the power necessary to plant his fist directly into Yumichika’s stupid, annoying face. The blow sent Yumichika to the floor, and when Ichigo stumbled forward to check, he was out cold. The strange energy left as quickly as it had come, and Ichigo collapsed onto his ass, still conscious, but completely empty. He leaned back carefully, and laid down on the mat with a small thud, gazing tiredly up at the ceiling.

“Told you I had this,” he said to the tiled ceiling as he slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

 

“He’s coming around, Byakuya,” a deep, melodic voice thrummed to Ichigo’s left. As he fought his way out of sleep, he felt gentle hands poking and prodding his chest, feeling for broken bones Ichigo assumed. He groaned, clenching his eyes shut against the light above him and the pain that covered his entire body.

“Ah, yes, what would I do without your astute observational skills? You are truly my savior,” Byakuya replied tartly, his voice laden with sarcasm so heavy Ichigo was worried he’d drop it.

“My work is hard, but worth it,” the voice laughed in reply.

“Your work is hardly difficult, you’re just lazy and apathetic,” Byakuya bit back.

“Hey! I’m very pathetic! Wait, no, what’s the opposite of apathetic?”

Byakuya snorted, “No, no, I think you had it. And I agree wholeheartedly, you’re quite a prime example of uselessness.”

The voice huffed petulantly, “See if I come to keep you company again, you jerk.”

“Is that what you’re doing? I thought you were trying to annoy me. Or perhaps hiding from your lieutenant again.”

“...I never said I wasn’t _also_ doing that. The hiding thing, not... not the annoying thing.”

“I think you might be more than exceptional at both.”

“I’m hurt! What have I done to put you off?”

“Do you want that list in alphabetical or chronological order?”

The voice paused for a long time. “Don’t you have a patient to attend to?” the voice muttered with a slight rustle of fabric.

“I’ve been trying,” Byakuya replied, “Ichigo? Can you open your eyes?”

Ichigo groaned again, but tried his best, slowly blinking as he adjusted to the brightness, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“I would disagree. You’re going to be quite sore for some time,” Byakuya said with an aggravated sigh.

“Awesome. Any other good news, Doc?” Ichigo grumbled, carefully sitting up. Cold, but still gentle hands helped him up, and he looked down to check the damage. Huge black and blue splotches spread across his chest, stomach, and sides, and Ichigo could only imagine how his legs looked.

“Well, you’ve been out for about three hours. Yumichika came by to check on you, but he had other duties to attend to,” Byakuya replied.

“Sorry I missed him. I’d have loved to see how his sorry ass looked,” Ichigo chuckled, then winced, and decided laughing was probably best to avoid for now.

“He appeared to be in much the same boat, if that makes you feel better. I’m going to give you some painkillers. Use them sparingly,” Byakuya said, handing Ichigo an orange bottle.

“...thanks,” Ichigo said, pocketing the pills. Byakuya looked almost surprised at Ichigo’s gratitude, which bothered the tangerine haired fighter. He felt a twinge of guilt, and made a mental note to treat Byakuya less gruffly in the future. He hadn’t done anything to deserve Ichigo’s attitude except be there to receive it.

“Will he be ready for tomorrow?” the deep voice from earlier asked. Ichigo turned to look at them, and finally got the chance to take in their... strange appearance. It was a man with light brown skin, a large straw hat, and a pink kimono, of all things. Ichigo’s brows furrowed in confusion. This was one of the spectators from his fight with Yumichika, which meant he was probably another Soul Reaper. Presumably the kimono wasn’t a part of the Reaper uniform. He could see a bit of a black dress shirt under it, and the man had black dress pants on to match his black, leather shoes.

“Tomorrow?” Ichigo asked.

“For your next match,” the man replied.

“...let me get this straight. I just finished the worst fight of my life, and you want me to do it again tomorrow?” Ichigo growled through his teeth.

“Of course. I must say I quite enjoyed that match. I’ve never seen anyone lay Yumichika out flat quite like you did,” that man chuckled.

Ichigo had to stop himself from punching the man right in his grinning face. “How exactly do you expect me to be ready to fight again that soon?”

“I’m sure under Byakuya’s excellent care, you’ll be right as rain in no time!” The man replied, seemingly oblivious to Ichigo’s rising fury.

“Excellent care or not, it will move quite a bit faster once you’re done butting in, Kyoraku,” Byakuya muttered, gently guiding the steaming redhead to lay back down.

“So savage the blade of the ones you love!” Kyoraku cried with a grin.

“Less savage than my real one,” Byakuya hissed.

“True enough,” Kyoraku chuckled. A relatively amicable silence fell for a few moments as Byakuya finished tending to his patient, and said patient stewed unhappily about his upcoming match. Not a moment after Byakuya was done, a knock landed upon the door.  
  
“Byakuya, you’ve been requested by Yamamoto-sama!” a voice rumbled from the other side. The voice belonged to a man, massive in stature if his timbre was any indication.

“Acknowledged, I’ll be there with the utmost haste!” Byakuya replied, looking between Kyoraku and his patient.

“Go, talk to Yama-jii. I’ll take care of the Berry,” Kyoraku said with a wave of his hand. Byakuya nodded, threw on his lab coat quite gracefully, and whisked his way out the door. After a few moments of rather loud silence, Kyoraku sighed. “You are unhappy.”

He wasn’t looking at the fighter, but Ichigo was the only person in the room, so the Soul Reaper must have been talking to him. “No, not really. How the hell do you people expect me to be ready to fight again tomorrow?!” Ichigo huffed, crossing his arms painfully as he scowled at the dark skinned man.

“Relax, young one. You’ll be fighting Yumichika again. I doubt either of you are quite up to the spectacle from yesterday,” Kyoraku replied, his baritone voice soothing as it rolled over Ichigo like thunder in the distance. Ichigo made a noncommittal noise and returned his gaze to the ceiling. After more silence, Ichigo sighed, a little wistfully.

“Am I ever gonna leave this place?” he asked the older man.

“Perhaps there is hope for that yet, young one. Some have managed it before, and even lived to tell the tale. However, it will be more difficult than it was for those previous, as you are not part of The Family.”

“The Family? You mean the Soul Reapers?”

“But of course. All true mobs are family, ne? The same is true here. However tenuous their connection, everyone here is part of the family,” Kyoraku mused.

“You’re all related?” Ichigo asked.

“Yes. Not necessarily by blood, but by something far more important,” Kyoraku replied, though he failed to elaborate.

“How?”

“Eh?” Kyoraku sounded confused.

“How are you all related?” Ichigo asked, looking over at the dark-skinned man. “You look nothing like most everyone else here.”

“Ah, well, I am one of our leader’s sons. I am considered a lieutenant, along with my _half_ -brothers, Komamura and Kenpachi.”

“Quite the naming scheme there.”

“Aye. We had two sisters, but they both died several years ago. Best not to mention it around my family though, most people are still quite... affected by their passing.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Ichigo said, and strangely, he was. He wasn’t happy to be there, but it hadn’t escaped his notice that he’d become close to some of his captors, namely Yumichika, and now he supposed, Byakuya and Kyoraku.

“Don’t worry, I’ve made my peace. With them at least,” he replied, the last half of his statement a bit of an afterthought.

“So how are Hitsugaya and Yumichika related then?” Ichigo asked, purely out of curiosity.

“Hmm, they’re not, technically. Hitsugaya is our leader, Yamamoto-sama’s, godson. Yumichika is Yama-jii’s grandson. He’s my sister, Kizu’s, son.”

“What about Byakuya?” Ichigo supplied, fascinated at the web of family here.

“Another godson,” Kyoraku answered.

“What about the two girls? The pink and orange haired ones?” Ichigo asked, recalling them as spectators to his fight.

“Ah, Yachiru and Rangiku. Yachiru is my niece, and Kenpachi’s daughter. Rangiku is Yama-jii’s daughter-in-law. She was married to my other sister, Kara,” Kyoraku replied, a strange look on his face.

“...you miss them, huh,” Ichigo asked, though he knew the answer. It was clear in the man’s face, and his voice when he spoke of his sisters.

“Aye. Sometimes I feel like they’re still around, y’know?” Kyoraku sighed, leaning back further in his chair.

“I don’t. Isn’t that strange? I can’t remember anyone in my life, so how am I supposed to know if I’ve lost anyone important to me?” Ichigo mumbled, looking down at his hands. His eyes prickled with fearful but unshed tears as he was once again reminded of how much he didn’t know about even himself. Kyoraku settled one large hand on the fighter’s shoulder and hushed him gently.

“Maybe one day it’ll come back to you, Ichigo. Until then, you’ll always have the memories you make here,” Kyoraku said, comforting the youth. “Oh, here, I was supposed to give you this,” Kyoraku said, as he reached into his pocket. From inside he pulled out a thin leather wallet, and passed it to Ichigo. “It’s yours."

Ichigo took it gratefully, and quickly flipped it open to peer inside, wiping his eyes clear in the process. Inside was his license, a couple credit cards, and some receipts. He gingerly pulled the license from it’s slot, handling it as though worried it would break or disintegrate in his hands. As he scanned over it, more tears threatened to fall. It was proof of his life beyond this place. He eagerly took in the sight of the stranger’s body he’d occupied glaring back at him from the plastic card, before the image was obscured by a single tear. He quickly wiped it away, and read over the rest of the card. He was twenty three, he had orange hair and brown eyes, he was nearly six foot, he weighed 145 pounds, though he wasn't sure how accurate that number was now.

He had an address. He’d lived somewhere. At that moment, Ichigo swore to himself that no matter what, he’d return to his home. “Thank you, Kyoraku,” Ichigo said quietly, still staring at his ID.

“It’s no problem, kid. Try to get some rest, I gotta head out,” Kyoraku replied, getting to his feet. Ichigo nodded, finally putting the card back into his wallet, and slipping the leather into his pocket delicately. He rolled over in the sheets, and silently thanked Kyoraku for turning off the lights as he left. He slowly drifted off to sleep, thinking about his home, and if fresh tears christened his pillow, he chose to ignore it.

* * *

 

“Ne, did ya notice what he did during the fight?” a strange voice failed to whisper.

“I did,” an older sounding voice responded.

“Think he’ll do it again soon?”

“It is highly likely. After all, it’s what we’re here for.”

“Ya always did know just what ta say ta make a guy feel special.”

* * *

 

When Ichigo awoke the room was still dark, and the clock read 2:00, meaning it was the middle of the night. He was alone, which confused him, because he knew he’d just heard voices. He shrugged. Someone must have come in to check on him while he was asleep. He rolled over on the surprisingly comfortable hospital bed, pulled up his blanket, and drifted back to sleep.


End file.
